by Rainer Maria Rilke
Center of all centers, core of cores, almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet—all this universe, to the furthest stars all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.
Now you feel how nothing clings to you; your vast shell reaches into endless space, and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow. Illuminated in your infinite peace,
a billion stars go spinning through the night, blazing high above your head. But in you is the presence that will be, when all the stars are dead.
Many on the spiritual path rightfully long for a sudden point in time when a shift happens
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
A winter solstice 2020 short stream for a Movement Medicine community
to fashion universes out of emptiness
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